​ Magic Mushrooms and Red Noses

Written by: Paul Hetzler, Horticulture and Natural Resource Educator

As a kid I was enthralled by TV
nonfiction shows. Nova had great stuff, but my favorites were Christmas
documentaries like Frosty the Snowman. Over the years I’ve been
disappointed that no further work seems to have been done on the many questions
left hanging by the original researchers.

Take the whole glowing-nose
thing. First documented back in 1939 by Robert L. May in his book Rudolph
the Red-Nosed Reindeer, the story surrounding the phenomenon is well-known.
Since no one has come up with a scientific explanation, I have decided to
tackle the issue. Bioluminescence is a natural process wherein fungi, microbes,
insects or marine animals emit light as a result of chemical reactions which
they control, and there are a number of ways a reindeer may have naturally
developed a lighted nose.

Luminous life-forms, not to be
confused with luminary life-forms such as Gandhi and Nelson Mandela, generally
fall into two camps: those that make their own light, and those that hijack it
from others. Anglerfish are an example of the latter. To attract prey, they
convince a pile of bioluminescent bacteria to live on the end of the
fishing-pole-thing (ecsa) that sprouts from anglerfish heads, and to light up
on command. No one seems clear on how this works, but to be fair it’s tough to
study anything that deep.

Most deep-sea living light bulbs
are only available in blue-green. That color has a shorter, more industrious
wavelength as compared to red, which is too lazy to make it all the way from
the sunny surface. Because the ocean bottom is a red-free zone, most deep-sea
animals have lost the ability to see red. But a few predators, e.g. the northern stoplight loosejaw (a real thing), have
figured out how to both detect and produce red light. When it flips the switch,
it can see any prey within the red-light district created by its bio-light, but
the prey notice nothing; it’s like having night-vision glasses.

I could imagine a scenario where
Santa lands on a beach to adjust the freight or defrost his iPad, and Rudolph
gets infected by the bacteria from one of these red-stoplight fish or whatever that
had washed ashore. It’s entirely plausible.

Up on dry land, the best-known
bioluminescent organism may be fireflies. Either them or Tinkerbell, who still
sparks fights among taxonomists as to what category she belongs (I’m guessing a
mutant damselfly). Fireflies are honest about making their own light without
enslaving microbes, but dishonest in the way they use it to signal mates. We can’t
tell if they lie about their age, but some fireflies have learned the signal
codes used by rival species. They pretend to advertise for mates of that
species, and then eat anyone who shows up for a date, regardless of whether it
brings flowers.

I’m sure Santa has to wipe a few
smeared fireflies off his windshield on some part of his trip, but I doubt
Rudolph’s glow came from a firefly encounter.

Certain fungi also shine under
their own power. Depending which authority you use, there are either 71, 76, or
80 bioluminescent fungi species on the planet. We have 17 in North America,
though our magic mushrooms are dimmer than those in Australia. Not only do the
mushrooms, or fruiting structures, light up, the fungal mycelium or main body
inside the wood it’s consuming also glow. I first noticed glow-in-the-dark
fungi while camping. As I split some punky firewood at night (not exactly a
bright idea), I was surprised to see a green glow inside each chunk of wood.

As yet there is no agreement on
why fungi glow. It could be to attract insects to spread spores, or to repel
fungi-eating insects by attracting predator insects. Or it is just a chemical
byproduct of digesting lignin, which is to wood what steel reinforcing bars are
to concrete, imparting strength and resiliency. Very few fungi can break down
lignin, and the ones which do are the same ones that light up.

Fireflies and fungi both make
light by mixing two chemicals, luciferin and luciferase, which admittedly
sounds a bit ominous. I don’t want to suggest Rudolph made a deal with
luciferin and luciferase, but if he ate some high-wattage glowing mushrooms in
Australia, something might have rubbed off on him.

I hate to think that Santa’s
workshop ever involved gene transfer, but it would be remiss to gloss over
transgenic animals. As far as I know, genetically modified critters were
developed in the early 1980s, with glowing animals first appearing around 2002.
Certainly it would be possible today to insert jellyfish genes into a reindeer
nose, but probably not back in 1939. Plus, I think Santa would understand the
importance of steering clear of anything that could be misunderstood by kids.
No doubt Mrs. Claus would have had a word with him about it.

I contend Rudolph was either
exposed to deep-sea red-emitting bacteria, or he got his nose into some bright
mushrooms Down Under, and I expect follow-on research to come to light shortly.
The next order of business, obviously, is to explain flying reindeer, which may
also involve mushrooms. If I didn’t have to further study a documentary
entitled A Christmas Carol, I would get right on it.